My name is Nathan Turner. I’m the best networker in the world, and I make big deals happen.

Right now, I’m bringing together the most powerful people on the planet. When the group is complete, we’ll have a pool of over one trillion dollars.

Internally, we call ourselves the Syndicate. But within the Syndicate is another group — a smaller group of bad-boy billionaires who the press already knows and loves.

We call ourselves the Trillionaire Boys’ Club. The Syndicate controls the world, and we control the Syndicate.

There’s only one man standing in my way.

And now there’s this girl in my way, too — this 18-year-old freshman who seems to think she knows my business better than I do.

Fortunately, there are ways to deal with both of them.

The Connector is the first book in the Trillionaire Boys Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of another of the Club’s members … so pay close attention, because you’re going to want to collect them all.

IT’S ANNOYING, THE WAY I keep checking my Patek Philippe watch — and the rhodium and carbon fiber clock on the mantle — as two o’clock nears.

I have things to do. A million things to do. I don’t even have time to check my email, and that’s where so many connections are made. I’ve automated everything to save time: set it up once, then taught Geoffrey how to either do it himself or outsource it to someone competent.

That’s the way my calls and texts are handled, the way my appointments are made and my social calendar is taken care of. But the Syndicate has changed everything — all of the things I used to do are now like chores in the background. That’s right in a way; I hustled to amass my first billion, but now I’m playing a game that’s literally a thousand times bigger.

My day-to-day won’t matter at all when my network’s worth reaches a trillion. Then I could burn all that I’ve built, and it wouldn’t matter at all.

I’m so busy these days, I don’t stand for my own tailoring. Geoffrey found a guy with my exact build, tried an alteration on one of my suits, then calibrated once I found time to try them on. Now I use that same stand-in for all of my tailoring, because I’m too busy to stand in one place.

I barely attend my own meetings. I don’t answer my own phone.

I have to do my own workouts, unfortunately, but I have three personal trainers, a nutritionist, a cook, and several cross-discipline instructors for the sports I enjoy most, all at my disposal to tell me exactly what to do and when.

Geoffrey translates vague descriptions of clothing into wardrobe choices for the next day so that I don’t have to think.

Every fucking second is accounted for. My life has no wasted moments.

Yet here I am, sitting on my sofa with my laptop, ignoring the work at hand.

I keep looking at my watch, and glancing at the clock. Waiting for a knock from the single person the doorman has been instructed to allow entry.

She’s one minute late.

She’s two minutes late.

I thought about her all night long.

Alex Wynn is a distraction. I keep saying that to Geoffrey. But even though he’s supposed to be my gatekeeper — the man who has more sense than me sometimes, whose job is in part to save me from myself — Geoffrey’s done nothing to prevent this. I told him that I wanted to start coaching Alex, because if she was going to nose her way into my stuff, she should at least know what she’s doing. I told him that Alex was a wildcard, and that her unpredictability could sink us if she isn’t properly molded — taught the Nathan Turner way of doing things.

Geoffrey should have nodded, said, “Yes, Nathan, I agree,” and then set her up with any one of the faceless minions beneath me. She could have earned a real-world education that would eclipse the bullshit she’s learning in school, and it wouldn’t have cost her a dime. It all could have happened without my involvement, just a random series of emails or texts.

Instead, I answered when Alex called earlier. And I made the appointment.

Geoffrey sees it all and says nothing. He lets Alex sink her hooks in me, as if he’s trying to sabotage all that I’ve built.

I thought of her on my drive — alone, in my Bugatti — back to the office yesterday.

I thought about her through the rest of my demolished afternoon.

I thought about her over dinner, wondering what slop she was eating in her cafeteria while I ate charred lamb leg, with gnocco alla romana, shaved fennel, celery and vincotto. I even considered calling her to start our lessons early. If she’s to be my student, the least I should do is teach her to eat finer foods.

I thought about her in the evening.

I thought about her all night long, and then all day until she called — with me, Nathan Fucking Turner, waiting by the phone like a pathetic teenager.

Celeste also called, following her earlier thank-you for my college speaking gig with an offer to pay a visit. I know the code; her “visits” end in sweat and spent fluids. But I turn her down, tell her I’m busy. I don’t even know why until I’ve hung up, again answering my own phone even though I shouldn’t.

My mind continues to cycle.

Alex turns me on so much, it’s hard to think. I find her so hot, I feel practically sunburned. But it’s more than that.

I wonder if it’s that I think she could be an asset to the company. She has guts. Oblivious to the truth that she’s in over her head, she keeps right on swimming. She’s tough. She’s hard. She’s pushed back every time I’ve squared off against her. I dragged her into a closet to shout her down, but she stared me in the eye and backed me into a corner.

Nobody stares me down.

Nobody challenges my decisions or commands.

Nobody takes me by the balls, because I’m always three steps ahead.

Nobody but Alex.

Author Bio:

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life’s largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

Sexy rock god Daxton Cole has everything… and nothing that can bring him peace.Music, whiskey, pills, parades of silicone-enhanced groupies keeping his bed warm at any given time… none of it soothes his wounded soul. The demons always win.

His life is a toxic existence on a permanent loop, like a bad 80s movie.

Until…

Sara Russell, the junior publicist hired to salvage his tarnished image, plows into him. Innocent, naïve, and pure, she’s the only one who can piece together what has long been shattered.

But sometimes, when you’re so broken, it’s impossible to become whole again.

“Dax, where the hell are you going?” Finn’s question was followed by a yawn so loud, it could have woken the inhabitants of the neighboring buses. “We have sound check in an hour.”

Daxton ran a hand through his tousled, gel-crunched hair and pulled on a Houston Astros baseball cap. “I’m going for a run.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak that language. Come again?”

“I need to clear my head, okay? Buy me some time. I’ll be back.”

“Since when do you run? Don’t you want to get breakfast instead? Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, home fries, coffee?”

“Look, it was a shitty night. I need to get out for a while. Alone.”

“Dude, Merrick is gonna—“

“He’ll deal. I’ll see you later.”

Daxton slid open the tour bus door, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. Nobody in sight. Great, he finally had a chance to escape the questions he couldn’t answer, questions he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

The sun peeked over the clouds as he sank into a hamstring stretch. His muscles were so tight, just like the knot that had taken up residence at the base of his skull. Ironic. Excessive booze normally had the opposite effect. And he’d pretty much drank himself sober after last night’s debacle. How the hell had that guy gotten so close?

He rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to relieve the knot. “Dammit!”

“Rough night?”

That raspy voice made him jump about twenty feet into the air. Christ, did she know how sexy her voice sounded in the morning? He’d love to hear it waking him up after a very sleepless night infused with lots of carnal pleasures. Oh, fuck yeah.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sara twirled her ponytail around her index finger, a sleepy smile on her face. The soft morning light danced atop her head, half-hooded green eyes making his cock twitch. Shit, even at this ungodly hour of the morning?

“I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”

“Thought you’d escape unnoticed, huh?” Sara smirked. “I’m going for a run. Figured it was my only chance for some peace and quiet before Merrick assigns me his list of errands for the day.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes raked over the curves poured into hot pink spandex, mind unable to formulate a thought beyond peeling her out of those constricting clothes. Immediately, if not sooner.

“Okay, then.”

“Okay, what?”

She grabbed her ankles one at a time, pulling each toward to her perfect ass, stretching her quads. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be by yourself, anyway.”

“So you’re gonna protect me?”

Her pink lips curled into a sly smile. “It’s my job. Now stop procrastinating and move.”

“You’re kind of pushy. Why can’t we ease into it? Nice and slow to start?”

“Nice and slow, huh? Kind of shocking. You don’t seem the type.”

He stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I was talking about running.“

“Sure you were.” She tightened her ponytail. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you sweat out all the alcohol.”

A slow trot increased in intensity much too quickly, and soon, they were circling the arena parking lot at full speed. Focus, focus, focus! His primary objective was not to collapse. A sidelong glance confirmed Sara had barely broken a sweat since they’d started. No words were exchanged, which was a good thing, since he couldn’t catch a single breath. A burning sensation erupted in the pit of his belly, spreading through his lungs, singeing his insides. His legs, now feeling more like Jell-O than actual limbs, were on the brink of revolution. Why didn’t he grab a bottle of water? Panting only made his mouth drier, as if it wasn’t already more arid than the Sahara at midday. Sweat drizzled into his eyes, blurring his vision. How many more times were they going to make this death loop?

Sara pivoted to face him, tiny beads of perspiration glistening along her hairline, the only sign she was exerting herself at all. Jogging backwards. Not even changing her gait. He was a step above pathetic – a very short step.

“How is it that you can’t even make it a mile without looking like you’re about to pass out?”

Great, he needed to speak now?

“It’s not like…I’m…Britney Spears…shaking my ass…all over the stage.” His calf muscles ached as his sneakers pounded the pavement. Bacon, egg, and cheese had been a very delicious alternative, and he opted out for this self-inflicted torture? “I play guitar…and sing…doesn’t require…cardio.” He mopped his face with the edge of the t-shirt. “How the hell…are you…able to do this? I don’t think…your boy…friend is…keeping you…up late…enough.”

Croaking out those last words nearly killed him, for multiple reasons.

“You should really consider traveling with an oxygen mask.” She flipped around, giving him a glimpse of her shapely backside, just about the only thing keeping him going. “And, just so you know, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Not your…boy—“ A sharp pain shot through his foot, stopping him mid-stride. “Ahh!” His body rocketed forward, arms flailing, sending him to the pebbly concrete lot with nothing to cushion the blow except his pride.

Thump!

“Holy crap, are you okay?” Sara fell to the ground where he was writhing in agony, bits of pebble mashed into his skin. “Where does it hurt?”

He let out a loud groan and fell backward. “Fuck. Everywhere!”

“Do you think anything’s broken?” Her hand squeezed his and for the briefest of seconds, the presence of his very intense pain faded, replaced by Sara’s compassion, worry, and genuine concern. Somebody actually cared. That hadn’t happened in…shit, long enough that he couldn’t pinpoint an amount of time. It felt nice. Until the agony crashed over him again like a tsunami.

Sitting up was a struggle, but dammit, he was already hovering on the brink of being a complete and total pansy ass. Ignore the pain. Find out what happened with the boyfriend. Even a fall like that couldn’t quell his curiosity. He had to know, even if he was going to be in traction and unable to do anything about it for the foreseeable future.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”

A look of shock flitted across Sara’s face, quickly followed by a snicker. “Wow. Your focus is impressive, even with four potentially broken limbs.” Her playful tone couldn’t mask her nerves, though. She toyed with her ponytail again, normally bright green eyes darkening. “I walked in to find Laney riding him like she was competing for the Triple Crown.”

“Horse racing fan?”

“Yeah, we have a horse farm back home. Raised several thoroughbreds. I always loved to ride.” She averted her eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse of what she’d been trying to shield.

“Where’s home?”

“Minnesota.” She sat back on her heels, eyes still guarded. Conversation over. “So, what do you think? Are you able to hoof it back to the buses?”

“Eli is a fucking idiot.”

A slow smile brightened her flushed face. “Agreed.” She held out a hand. “Come on, let’s see if those legs still work.”

“Are you gonna carry me if they don’t?”

“You don’t pay me enough.”

Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”

Sara snaked an arm around his waist, hoisting him against her. “Take it slow, okay? You said you liked that.”

The scent of citrus wafted into the air between them. So delicious, like a fruit salad. How could she still smell so good after that run? “Yeah…I figured you’d use that against me soon enough.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Looks like we have lots of time to kill before we make it back to camp. Shoot.”

“What happened last night? Who was the guy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ How the hell did she even know?

”I’m sure your little groupies love the coy act, but I’ll pass.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Daxton, I’m part of your PR team. It’s my job to know everything that goes on during this tour. Sean from security told me someone approached you. I can’t do damage control without all the facts. Who was he, and what did he want? Or, maybe a better question might be what does he know?”

His face twisted into a grimace with each step. The buses weren’t even in sight. With any luck, they’d make it back by lunchtime. “You ever feel like you’re suffocating? That there’s air all around, but you just can’t breathe it in? Like your body resists what it needs to survive, and you feel like you’re constantly drowning? That’s how I feel most of the time. The air, everything around me – what people see, what they want to believe, judgments they make based on half-truths – it’s all toxic. Better not to inhale. The lesser of two evils, but either way, I’m fucked.”

She nodded, her hair tickling his shoulder. “I do know what you mean.” Her voice was soft, sad. There was something beneath that snarky exterior, something he was desperate to uncover, but her demeanor begged him not to press.

They walked for a few silent minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. He clenched and unclenched his fists as waves of pain assaulted his ankle. “Shit, that hurts.”

“I don’t think you should push it. Let me call Merrick.“

“No.” He stopped, teetering on one leg. “Please. Not yet. Can we just sit down for a minute?”

“Of course.” She eased him to the ground and sank onto the pavement. “Is there anything I can—?”

“The guy from last night said he knew my mother.” Daxton held his head, expelling a deep breath. “She disappeared after my brother died last year, without a trace. Without a warning. One day, she was there; the next, gone. With her clothes, car, jewelry. Everything…gone. My dad made a half-hearted attempt to find her, but I was too angry to try. I’d just lost my best friend, and my mother picked that time to bail. We should have been there for each other, but she didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sara grasped his hand. Her skin was so soft against his calloused fingers. It was an occupational hazard for a guitarist.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with her. She abandoned her family. Things between her and my dad were never great, but what the hell did I ever do to her?”

“So you had security get rid of him.”

“People always have an angle, Sara.” He raised his eyes to see the empathy reflected in her gaze. “I can’t trust anyone because everyone has an agenda. They want to know what I can do for them, how much I’ll pay to keep something from happening, what they can hold over my head in exchange for things they want. Even if this guy is telling the truth, I’m not willing to listen because nothing comes without a high price tag. Toxic. But the problem is, even though my body tries to protect me by resisting the urge to inhale the poison around me, I want to live, to be whole again, free from all this useless anger and resentment. I need to breathe.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just can’t remember how.”

KRISTEN LUCIANI

Kristen Luciani is a self-proclaimed momtrepreneur with a penchant for Christian Louboutins, Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit martinis. As a deep-rooted romantic who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her, she tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…

Rebecca Manuel, a.k.a. Becca the Bibliophile, is a lover of books, Fireball, Diet Dr. Pepper and Texas Trash Pie from Royers Roundtop Café. With a deep-rooted passion for the creative, she started the first independent short film company within the literary industry, charged with bringing book characters and plots to life via the Internet. She lives in Houston with her techie geek husband, two fabulous kids, and their menagerie of furry friends.

In the light of darkness is an undeniable need to run, disappear, slither away only barely scraping by with hope that maybe just maybe, there’s a way of escape.
My name is Oliva Basari. I escaped one hell only to be trapped inside another, darkness and fear seething through my veins and invading my every thought.
A new city, a new job, a new persona and then…. I fell in lust, I fell in love…hell, I just fell.
From the darkness my alter ego became real, I was Tess, the stirring of someone or something else burning in my gut until she was all there was.
I didn’t fear what would happen if remorse knocked on my door nor did I fear the lustful way I stalked them, preyed upon them—the ones that couldn’t have me, the ones who wished they could taste me—I was their darkness until I met one very tall, dark, and forbiddingly handsome Mr. Black. He hated me watching with darkness in his tormented eyes. He scared me, intimidated me, and left me questioning my own sanity.Until he didn’t.

He was the one thing I let myself submit too, his touch, the way he slid his knuckles across my flesh, igniting a dangerous spark inside of me.

In the end, we’re all captured souls waiting for release or the escape from our own maniacal thoughts.
In the end, we are all prisoners of the flesh.

She slept with blankets slipping from her taut body. I inhaled deeply as my dick ached to be inside of her tight pussy. I didn’t actually know what her pussy felt like… Was it soft, delectable, electric, and glorious? I imagined all of those possibilities and intended on finding out soon, but I wasn’t ready yet. I needed her to come to me. To beg me for it before I could give her everything that I couldn’t stop thinking about.I slid my hand inside of my nightstand drawer retrieving the lube I’d used on the woman the night before. They were covetous, egocentric, and contemptuous. Nothing that interested me. It rather disinterested me, actually. Olivia was the exact opposite of those women, a contradiction of everything they stood for.

I unbuttoned my jeans and sagged against the chair that had the best view of her bed. Of course, I’d arranged it that way. Her ass was so fucking perfectly round, tight, and juicy. Nothing could possibly be as good as that ass. I was sure of it, and I intended on finding out soon enough.

I pulled my pants down to lay across my thick thighs and untucked my cock from my briefs. The slippery lube slid out of the bottle and melted against my heated hand. Her body shifted slowly as my hand dipped against my flesh. I stilled, waiting to see if she’d wake up this time. She’d been on edge lately, not sleeping well. It’d been pretty fucking obvious she’d been having a difficult time with something. I shrugged off the thought. I’d wanted to fix whatever was wrong, comfort her, fuck her until her problems were mere memories from a past before me or very thin memories that popped like bubbles do in the sunlight. But I’d remain a circumspect observer, for now.

Her body turned just as my hand landed on my hot, thick, pulsing cock. I squeezed, gripping the skin down my shaft… hard. A deep-seated moan reverberated from my throat. It felt so fucking relishable… gratifying. My cock jerked from the sensations it was experiencing. Her tits bounced into position… the position of foreplay among lovers. Nipples hard and round, perky and wanting, waiting for my tongue to flick across the hardened flesh in heated arousal. She adjusted from her stomach to her back, completing her task in search of comfort. Ironic really, that here at this moment she’d seemed extroverted, willing to be free when in reality she was demure. Well, unless she was dancing, but that was only a few hours a night. And I wouldn’t allow myself that opening to taste her flesh. Not yet.

“Ah fuck!” I moaned, the sound feral. I lived alone, and no one could hear me and fuck it if they could, I didn’t care.

My strokes became tight, stroking the entire length of my cock. Cum slipped out of the head as I smothered the silkiness of my arousal across the thin, sensitive flesh. I jacked off to her perfect fucking body.

Her hand crossed her chest, and I imagined she was touching herself there while I licked her pussy, sweeping my tongue against the nub bringing her to ecstasy.

I’d dreamt about that for a long fucking time. One year to be exact. She’d moved into the apartment across from mine with her friend. Her boyfriend moved in just a few months later. Fucking asshole is never there, and he fucks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Probably doesn’t, to be honest. Little prick has a small ass cock, too. If he came even a tiny bit close to getting her off, I’d rock her fucking world. When I finally take her in every way imaginable, I will do just that.

My strokes became shorter, tighter, faster as I watched her tight body. I imagined her full lips wrapped around my cock sucking hard, harder. Her tongue would flick across the head lapping up my cum into her hot mouth; she’d smile as she squeezed me roughly, begging for more of me to seep into her mouth. She’d suck me the hardest I’d ever been sucked.

“Oh fuck!” Cum shot from the head of my dick. “Fucking shit, Olivia!” I yelled her name as I pulsed against my palm.

Just as I cleaned myself, her jackoff boyfriend arrived stripping his clothes off as he snuck into bed like a predator, opening his mouth ready to take her. My fists slammed into the wall next to the window. It left a large, round hole that I’d deal with later.

My mind raced. I wanted to go over to her apartment and rip him out of her bed. I wanted to kill him. If he didn’t get a fucking clue, I was going to do just that. And soon!

I got plenty of pussy. Shit, where I worked, it was thrown at my cock in groves, but I wanted Olivia Basari. Only Olivia. When I fucked someone, she was the only face I saw. Her sweet lips sucking me off until I came in her sweet fuckable mouth.

Convenient for me, I’d get to see that face and body every day and night. She was a dancer at Epic, the strip club I owned. She worked for me, but it wasn’t enough. I want to own every inch of her. I’ve kept my thoughts to myself. No one knew how I felt, and they sure as fuck didn’t know the malevolent thoughts that infiltrated my mind. Funny really, infiltrate makes it sound as though I didn’t want the thoughts there. As though I’d set up a road block of sorts keeping them away, but in fact, I’d caressed every single one of them. I lured them in with the tips of my fingers promising jewels of satisfaction.

I watched her from the two-way window in my office while she danced for the scum of the city. I pretended that she was dancing exclusively for me. I fucked while I watched her from that window. The girls didn’t have a clue what I was doing when I had them bent over gripping their flesh into my hands. All they wanted was the orgasm they’d get whether I tried to give it or not. Sometimes I did. I loved pussy. It was only Olivia’s I was thinking of when I sucked on their clits, however. Slipping my fingers inside their wet, dripping, pulsating pussies brought cry after cry from their dirty mouths.

I stripped my clothes and showered. I’d see her at work in an hour. I couldn’t watch that fucker touch her any longer.

She was mine.

Author Bio

Kimberly is an International Bestselling author and has been writing since she was a young girl growing up in Kansas City, Mo. Reading and writing have always been a big part of her life. She enjoys the world she can get lost in while reading a good book. A wife and mother to four beautiful children she decided she wasn’t busy enough. She spent some time chasing down fugitives as a bounty hunter then laid down her handcuffs and finished her college degree in nursing.Kimberly loves discovering new music to jam out to and loves anything that’s different. Her many interests include Google, you heard it! Google. If you need to know any unusual or interesting fact she has searched it and can recite it. Her motto is: Why be the same as everyone else when you can stand out?

When Kimberly isn’t writing she is playing superhero for her children.

TRU BLUE is a sexy, dark stand-alone novel written in the same loving, raw, and emotional voice romance readers have come to love, and the deeply emotional literary prose women’s fiction readers have come to expect, from New York Times & USA Today bestselling, award-winning author Melissa Foster.

“With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!” New York Times Bestseller Julie Kenner

“Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!” New York Times Bestseller Lauren Blakely

He wore the skin of a killer, and bore the heart of a lover…

There’s nothing Truman Gritt won’t do to protect his family–Including spending years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. When he’s finally released, the life he knew is turned upside down by his mother’s overdose, and Truman steps in to raise the children she’s left behind. Truman’s hard, he’s secretive, and he’s trying to save a brother who’s even more broken than he is. He’s never needed help in his life, and when beautiful Gemma Wright tries to step in, he’s less than accepting. But Gemma has a way of slithering into people’s lives and eventually she pierces through his ironclad heart. When Truman’s dark past collides with his future, his loyalties will be tested, and he’ll be faced with his toughest decision yet.

**

“You can always rely on Melissa Foster to deliver a story that’s fresh, emotional and entertaining. Make sure you have all night, because once you start you won’t want to stop reading. Every book’s a winner!” NYT Bestselling Author Brenda Novak

TRUMAN GRITT LOCKED the door to Whiskey Automotive and stepped into the stormy September night. Sheets of rain blurred his vision, instantly drenching his jeans and T-shirt. A slow smile crept across his face as he tipped his chin up, soaking in the shower of freedom. He made his way around the dark building and climbed the wooden stairs to the deck outside his apartment. He could have used the interior door, but after being behind bars for six long years, Truman took advantage of the small pleasures he’d missed out on, like determining his own schedule, deciding when to eat and drink, and standing in the f**king rain if he wanted to. He leaned on the rough wooden railing, ignoring the splinters of wood piercing his tattooed forearms, squinted against the wetness, and scanned the cars in the junkyard they used for parts—and he used to rid himself of frustrations. He rested his leather boot on the metal box where he kept his painting supplies. Truman didn’t have much—his old extended-cab truck, which his friend Bear Whiskey had held on to for him while he was in prison, this apartment, and a solid job, both of which were compliments of the Whiskey family. The only family he had anymore.

Emotions he didn’t want to deal with burned in his gut, causing his chest to constrict. He turned to go inside, hoping to outrun thoughts of his own f**ked-up family, whom he’d tried—and failed—to save. His cell phone rang with his brother’s ringtone, “A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds to Mars.

“F**k,” he muttered, debating letting the call go to voicemail, but six months of silence from his brother was a long time. Rain pelleted his back as he pressed his palm to the door to steady himself. The ringing stopped, and he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d trapped inside. The phone rang again, and he froze.

He’d just freed himself from the dredges of hell that he’d been thrown into in an effort to save his brother. He didn’t need to get wrapped up in whatever mess the drug-addicted fool had gotten himself into. The call went to voicemail, and Truman eyed the metal box containing his painting supplies. Breathing like he’d been in a fight, he wished he could paint the frustration out of his head. When the phone rang for the third time in as many minutes, the third time since he was released from prison six months ago, he reluctantly answered.

“Quincy.” He hated the way his brother’s name came out sounding like the enemy. Quincy had been just a kid when Truman went to prison. Heavy breathing filled the airwaves. The hairs on Truman’s forearms and neck stood on end. He knew fear when he heard it. He could practically taste it as he ground his teeth together.

“I need you,” his brother’s tortured voice implored.

Need me? Truman had hunted down his brother after he was released from prison, and when he’d finally found him, Quincy was so high on crack he was nearly incoherent—but it didn’t take much for f**k off to come through loud and clear. What Quincy needed was rehab, but Truman knew from his tone that wasn’t the point of the call.

Before he could respond, his brother croaked out, “It’s Mom. She’s really bad.”

Author Bio:

Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance, new adult romance (M/F, M/M, F/F), romantic suspense, thrillers, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa’s emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success.

Melissa has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Her interests include her family, reading, writing, painting, friends, helping others see the positive side of life, and visiting Cape Cod.

Melissa is available to chat with book clubs and welcomes comments and emails from her readers. Visit Melissa on Facebook or her personal website.

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SURPRISE! Harper Sloan has released a bundle to the first 3 books in the Hope Town Series!
For the first time ever, the Hope Town books are being bundled! Join us for the first three books in the series! Complete with new bonus content!
Don’t worry this does not mean the series is ending, there will be an amazing new book early next year.

Make a deal with the devil and you might get what you want, but will it be what you need?

Jennifer Sylvester wants one thing, and that one thing is NOT to be Tennessee’s reigning Banana Cake Queen. Ever the perpetual good girl and obedient daughter, Jennifer is buckling under the weight of her social media celebrity, her mother’s ambitions, and her father’s puritanical mandates. Jennifer is officially desperate.

And desperate times call for Cletus Winston.

Cletus Winston is a puzzle wrapped in a mystery covered in conundrum sauce, and now he’s in a pickle. Despite being convinced of his own omniscience, extortion by the exalted Banana Cake Queen of Green Valley has taken him completely by surprise. So… what’s a maniacal mastermind to do?

Likely, the last thing you expect.

‘Beard Science’ is the third book in the Winston Brothers series, is a full-length romantic comedy novel, and can be read as a standalone.

My Review:

5/5 Stars!!

Spoiler Free Review

I am desperately in love with this book and it’s odd, but charming and lovable hero, Cletus. No joke. His name is Cletus. Do NOT let the name Cletus fool you. He is so much more than his name. Gah! I finished this days ago and I am still thinking about it. 🙂

So, we have poor Jennifer, who is known around town as the Banana Cake Queen, and Cletus Winston, the oddest and most closed off of the Winston brothers. Jennifer is 22 years old and living under the thumb of her very odd and ultra-controlling parents who make the girl feel small. Cletus is odd, but extremely smart and knows much more about what is going on in town and who is doing what than he lets on. When Jennifer inadvertently catches Cletus doing something shocking, instead of hiding away, she gets and idea and she confronts him. The story unfolds from there and it is so, so good!

I loved this! The book is well-written and easy to read, but has so many twists and turns. The character development is so complete its almost unbelievable. It was fun experiencing Jennifer’s transformation from shy flower to a girl who can hold her own. Cletus looks like a crazy man, but he is calculating and smart, but quite rigid. He plans everything in advance and only does things that will benefit him. Except, he really has nothing to gain from Jennifer, until he realizes what he wants from her is, well, her. These two are fun and reading their relationship as it develops was a lot of fun, frustrating at time and truly satisfying.

I had only read one other Penny Reid book and I liked it, but now, I am a fan for life. I can’t wait to read the rest of the series!

About Penny Reid

SEX! It all started with sex, between my parents. Personally I don’t like thinking about it, but whatever works for you is a-ok with me. No judgment. The sex happened in California and much of my life also occurred in that state until I moved from the land of nuts (almonds), wine, silicon… boobs, and heavy traffic to the southeast US. Like most writers I like to write, but let’s get back to sex. Eventually I married and gave birth to 2 small people-children (boy-6, girl-4 as of this writing).

By day I’m a biomedical researcher with focus on rare diseases. By night I’m a knitter, sewer, lino block carver, fabric printer, soap maker, and general crafter. By the wee hours of the morning or when I’m intoxicated I love to listen to the voices in my head and let them tell me stories. I hope you enjoy their stories.

BLURB

Meeting him was a fluke. Dating him was a mistake. Watching him become a drug addict put me through hell. Running was my only option.

***

I’m running from my demons and when I find out she’s trying to escape her past, I know what I have to do.

One broken cop. One woman fighting for her life. A fragile love.

Sinister secrets that threaten to tear them apart.

They’ve been to hell. The hard part will be finding their way back together.

My Review:

5/5 Stars!!!!

Spoiler Free Review

Oh my goodness! This book! You are seriously going to want to read this book! Hell and Back is Natasha Madison’s second novel but she writes like a seasoned veteran.

I warn you to keep the tissues handy. You’re going to need them, because this book has all the feels! It generally takes me a chapter or two to connect with a character, but not the case here. I was five pages in and already I was hooked.

I know many of you are not fans of insta-love and, yes, there is insta-love in Hell and Back, but don’t let that sway you. It is mostly one-sided for about half the book and honestly it is pretty realistic.

I can tell there was a lot of care taken in writing this book. It tackles more than one difficult topic. Natasha Madison clearly took time to put her heart into this book. The characters are well-developed and you can’t help but love most of them. Plus, just when you think you know what is going on…BOOM, Madison throws in one heck of a twist that literally changes everything.

There is sex, but just the right amount. The sexy times were perfectly placed and in just the right amount. There was a nice slow burn to the romance, some fists through walls and let me tell you, Jackson has the patience or a saint.

Jackson and Bella get their HEA and a happy little epilogue.

With Hell and Back, Natasha Madison proves she isn’t just a one-off author. She is a name to remember and she is on my one-click list!

When her nose isn’t buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she’s in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It’s a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn’t listen to her…

Title: I See You
Author: Molly McAdams
Genre: New Adult

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Molly McAdams’ powerful new novel offers one of the most memorable love triangles in fiction since Twilight—perfect for fans of New Adult fiction like Jamie McGuire, Abbi Glines, and Tamarra Webber.

What if…
Aurora Wilde’s life feels like a series of what ifs, forks in the road, and doors unopened. What if she hadn’t gone to the party that night? What if Jentry Michaels hadn’t captured her interest, or disappeared the next day? What if Declan Veil hadn’t been there to sweep her off her feet?

And as she goes down the list to make her perfect forever, Aurora is happy with her life and a future that seems completely secure. Until, one day, suddenly it’s not. Now she’s stuck between the man who has been there for her and the one she never stopped thinking about.

As the consequences of each of her choices comes to a head, Aurora begins to realize that, sometimes, one tiny decision can ripple through a life and change everything. But when what once felt like a safe and reliable future becomes something else, will Aurora have the courage to make a final decision that could alter the course of her entire life?

My Review:

3.5/5 Stars!!

Spoiler Free Review

I See You has been talked about so much lately and I have been super excited to read it. Unfortunately, it was all a bit too confusing for my liking.

Aurora has one magical night with a stranger, never expecting to see him again, but finding it hard to forget. She tries to find him, but can’t. After she finally gives up, she starts into another “relationship” (because Aurora doesn’t really do those) and moves on with her life.

And that’s all the story you get from me, because spoilers are a no-no.

The story was told in the alternating viewpoints of Aurora and Jentry and flip flops between the past and present. It was just too much for my liking. It just never felt smooth. I would have preferred dividing the book into parts – past, closer past, present. It was good to get the whole story and what a story it is. Despite all my misgivings about the setup, the story itself is really good with some twists and lots of swoonworthy moments!

I will say, it has a great ending, that after all the back and forth and push and pull, I was happy with the way things turned out.

He reached for me, but I shot my hand out in a silent plea for him not to. I was already shaking from keeping myself from him. I didn’t want to think about what I would do if he touched me now.

The past was standing right in front of me, begging to be seen. As if I had ever stopped seeing him. As if I had ever pulled myself from the embers of that night. That night was a dance of flames that had no ending, only respites. One touch from him and those embers would roar to life again, burning hotter and higher.

I wanted it.

I couldn’t allow it. Not now, not with everything going on.

I dropped my head and took quick steps to leave the closet, but Jentry’s arm shot out to stop me, his hand curled against my waist possessively.

“Aurora—”

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

He ignored me and pulled me against him so my side was pressed to his chest. My body trembled as those flames got higher. But with the flames that guilt grew and grew, threatening to cripple me.

“You hurt, I hurt,” he reminded me. “And, Aurora, seeing you like this and not being able to fix it is killing me. I’m sorry for what happened. I’m so damn sorry, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” Each word was laced with pain, echoing the aches in my heart and my soul. “But you are out of your mind if you think it was easy for me not being here. I have regretted letting you go, every minute of every fucking day. If I could do that first night all over again I would, and I would’ve been there for you. I would have been here.”

The tears that had filled my eyes finally slipped free at his words and the memory of that night. “But you did let me go, and no matter how much we beg time to reverse, it won’t.”

His body deflated against mine as regret leaked from him. “No, it won’t. But I’m here now. I’m here, and we’re going to get through this.”

So much indecision and confusion wove through me. Wants and needs at war with one another as they had already been for an agonizing amount of time.

My heart had bled out through each battle until I’d made a life-changing decision, a decision that Declan and I didn’t speak of, and one that Jentry still didn’t know. Now any move I could make from here on out would be the wrong one. I was sitting in a minefield, waiting.

Just waiting.

“I tried to forget that night,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “I tried to forget you, but somehow you embedded yourself so deeply into my soul in just one night, that forgetting you—forgetting that night—was impossible. I don’t need a lifetime with you to know that no one and nothing will ever compare to what’s between us. But it’s too late for anything involving us even if it’s just us getting through this, because that night and you are now some of my biggest regrets.”

Want to know how the music matches to the book?
Here are the songs linked up to the parts of the story!

Tonight – Mitch Lee, ft. Jocelyn Alice [Ch. 5: end of]

Whisper – Chase Rice [Part II]

Come Wake Me Up – Rascal Flatts [Ch. 6: Jentry’s POV]

9 Crimes – Damien Rice [Ch. 9]

Fallout – Marianas Trench [Ch. 10]

Over You – Ingrid Michaelson, ft. A Great Big World [Ch. 11]

Playing With Fire – Thomas Rhett, ft. Jordan Sparks [Part III]

Good To You – Marianas Trench, ft. Kate Voegele [Ch. 13: end of Aurora’s POV/beginning of Jentry’s POV]

We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off – Ella Eyre [Ch. 26: second half]

Molly grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband, daughter, and fur babies. When she’s not diving into the world of her characters, some of her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling, and long walks on the beach … which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies and fried pickles, and loves curling up in a fluffy comforter during a thunderstorm … or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren’t really happening.

Boredom, the root of my evil.I had it all, dream job, boyfriend, stability.

So I did the unthinkable, I packed up and left everything that was dear to me. Set out of the journey of a lifetime and it was all going to plan until I met him.

Alastar O’Shea.An enigmatic, artistic Irishman who had more sexual energy in his pinky finger than anything I had ever dreamed of.

I should have stayed away from him.

He was hot, toxic and the most exhilarating experience of my life.Like a drug he entered my bloodstream.

Like a drug he brought me undone.

Did I meet him by chance or was it a calculated hit?I did believe in fairy tales but he isn’t who I thought he was.

Will he find me?

Will it cost me my life?

My Review:

4/5 Stars!!

Spoiler Free Review

Holy book hangover! I honestly don’t know what I just read. There is so much going on and it all came together to create a beautiful love story in a most unconventional way. Emerson and Alastar have explosive chemistry that rockets off the pages. This is my first T. L. Swan book, but it definitely won’t be the last.

He picks up his glass and tips his head back, drinking it down. His large tongue comes out to lick his lips and anticipation thrums through my body. He puts his glass down and lifts my shirt over my head. I sit on the bench in my black lace bra and skirt and stockings.

He licks his lips again and his eyes drop to my breasts. Oh, I want that tongue on me.

I pick up my glass and drink my shot and he bends to pull my bra back and takes my nipple in his mouth, quickly biting me with a hard suck. I jump and my legs open that bit farther by themselves.

He stands and drinks another shot, licks the tequila from his lips again, and lets his dark, wanting eyes burn holes in my restraint.

Holy fuck, this game is hot.

“Stand up.” He growls.

Author Bio

Lover of her husband, children, words, chocolate and margaritas.When she is not writing her next novel, you will find her in a café drinking coffee with friends.